


Alone On Thanksgiving? Hate Your Parents? Read On...

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Craigslist AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, In which the Wards are just assholes but aren't actually abusers, Just WASPs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A silly thanksgiving fic <a href="http://ivyaura.tumblr.com/post/103240415337/well-i-know-what-im-doing-this-thanksgiving">based off that hilarious Craiglist ad</a>.  </p><p>In an AU where the Wards are just stuffy WASPs and not actual monsters, Grant brings a girl from Craigslist to the family dinner.  What starts as a joke turns into a real connection. SkyeWard, obviously.</p><p>Also featuring: smut, food, hilarious stories that are completely untrue, and Christian realizing that he used to be more fun when he was younger and not a stuck-up senator. SINCE THE WARDS ARE JUST ASSHOLES, GUYS, AND DON’T THROW PEOPLE DOWN WELLS OR ABUSE THEIR CHILDREN.  ANYWAY.</p><p>Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone On Thanksgiving? Hate Your Parents? Read On...

The girl from Craigslist shows up to their meeting spot 16 minutes late.  Not that Grant had been anxiously pacing back and forth, wondering if he’d given his location to a serial killer.

Instead, he gets a long-limbed girl with flowing hair and what is probably supposed to be a dress wandering into the Starbucks, looking around wide-eyed, and then grinning at him.

She’s gorgeous.  He smiles back and ignores the way his heart has begun to thud.  He had not been expecting-

“Skye,” she says, offering him her hand.  Her nails are painted deep purple and chipped.

“Grant,” he says.  “I wasn’t expecting-”

“Someone without an axe?” Skye says.  She laughs at her own joke, and Grant laughs, too.  “Don’t worry.  We’re just getting started.”

He gives her another once-over, now that she’s closer to him.  “And your dress is, um-” 

“It was like, three dollars,” she says.  She pulls her hand out of his, gives him a little spin.  It’s almost illegally short, with slits on both sides going up to her butt.  The back is a swath of fabric and some strings.  The front isn’t much better.

She’s gorgeous.  Oh, God.  She’s so pretty and effervescent, and he’s only just met her.  Through Craigslist.

This is such a bad idea.

“It’s great,” Grant says.  “You look great.”

“I look like a stripper,” Skye says.  “But I figured that’s the message you wanted to send to your parents.”

He smiles at her, and offers his arm.  “Shall we?” he says.

She laughs.  “I’m sorry,” she says, linking her arm through his.  “No one I know says stuff like ‘shall we?’”

“Oh,” Grant says.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s cute,” Skye says, decidedly.  She’s cute.  Really, really cute, and he notices when he gets the car door for her that her heels are about six inches high.

She gets in without flashing him.  Glances up like she knew he was expecting it.  Her eyes spark with mischief.  “Don’t worry,” she says.  “I’m saving it for your parents.”

God, she’s gorgeous.

  
  


“Okay,” Skye says, pulling at the hem of her dress.  It barely helps.  The thing is still just at the top of her thighs.  “Prep me.”

“Well,” Grant says.  “I’ve got two brothers, and a sister.  And my parents are assholes.”

“I would assume,” Skye says.  “Since I’m here.”

“You know the WASPs you see people make fun of on TV?” Grant says.

“Yep,” Skye replies.

“Exactly like that.  They are without parody.  They are exactly that bad,” he says.

“Glad I wore my stripper dress, then,” Skye remarks.

“Me too,” Grant says, smiling to himself.  Skye snickers in the seat beside him, and he realizes his mistake entirely too late.  “Oh God.  I mean-”

“I know you think I’m hot,” Skye says.  “It’s okay.  Most people do.”

“It’s a good dress,” Grant says.

“Thanks,” she replies.  There’s something like amusement in her tone, which does just enough to relieve Grant’s embarrassment. 

“My older brother’s pretty awful, too,” Grant continues.  “Senator Christian Ward, Massachusetts.  What a fucking-”

“You’re a political family?” Skye asks, suddenly.

Grant frowns.  “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Skye says.  “This is gonna be awesome.”

Grant laughs at that.  “Good,” he says.  “Great.”

“So I should feel free to hit on Christian, right?” she says.  “He’s got a wife, right?”

“You’re going to hit on him in front of his wife?” Grant asks.

“It’s not fun otherwise,” Skye says.  “What about your younger siblings?”

“Oh, I love them,” Grant says.  “Thomas takes care of our sister, Rose.  They’ll like you.”

“Okay,” Skye says.  “So Thomas and Rose are good.  Everyone else is open season.”

Grant nods.  “Do you drink?” he asks.

“Not anymore,” Skye says.  “But I can act the part.”  She fiddles with her dress again.  “At what point in the evening should I ask the senator for cocaine?”

“Oh my God,” Grant laughs.  This was a great idea.  His best ever, probably.  “That’s up to you.”

She grins at him.  “We’re going to have a good night, Grant,” she promises.

For some reason, he believes her.

  
  


She lets out a low whistle as they pull up to the estate.  “If I’d known you were rich,” she says.  “I would’ve charged for my company.”

“My parents are rich,” Grant says.  “I don’t take money from them.”

“Ah,” Skye says, as he opens her door.  “One of those.”

“If you knew them, you wouldn’t either,” Grant says.

She opens her legs as she gets out of the car, so that the servants and the guests at the door can see.  Which she had mentioned, but still.  Grant tries his hardest not to look.

He peeks.

She’s wearing hot pink underwear.  He ignores the tingle that shoots up his spine.  Her heels hit the pavement, and she gives him a knowing grin.  “I’ll take your word for it,” she says.

“You do look really good,” he says.

“You keep saying that,” Skye notes.

He feels himself flush.  Skye links her arm through his, tosses her hair over her shoulder.  “Oh my God, Grant,” she loudly exclaims.  “You’re fucking loaded!”

Grant stares at her for a moment.  She looks up at him and winks.  “Right,” he says.

“Want me to kiss you?” she asks.

“Wait until we meet my parents,” he asks.

“Of course,” she says.  “Oh my God, your house is so big!  Bigger than Caesar’s Palace, even.”

The maids frown at him as he walks her into the house.  The guests are starting to whisper.

Grant really couldn’t be happier.

  
  


“You’re gonna have to let me lean on you,” Skye whispers, as he leads her through the foyer.  “These heels are plastic and I’m almost positive my heel is going to break sometime tonight.”

“Do you want to just take them off?” Grant asks.  “I don’t want you hurting yourself.  I’ll carry your shoes for you.”

She gives him a smile.  “You’re sweet,” she says.  “But I’m good.”

“Okay,” he tells her.  “Let me know.”

“I will,” she says.  “Though I’m thinking if it breaks, I can use it to spill something on your mother, then sob about a broken ankle before making you carry me out and take me to the ER?”

“Sounds good to me,” he says, already imagining his mother’s face when Skye spills red wine on her Armani.

“You’ll get what you paid for,” Skye promises.

“I’m paying you with food,” Grant notes.

“Yeah,” Skye says.  “And I take that very seriously!”

“Well,” he says.  “They’ll be up ahead in the living room.  Go wild.”

She squeezes his arm.  It’s oddly intimate for someone he barely knows.  He likes it.  

  
  


Grant can see his father up ahead.  They exchange glances, before Father’s gaze falls on Skye.

Grant wants that frown forever embedded into his memory.

Skye releases his arm as they come into the living room.  She throws her arms open in greeting, letting everyone see how tiny her dress.  “Hello future family in-law!” she screams, before pulling the nearest person in for a hug.

It’s Thomas, thank God.  His brother gives Grant a curious look, and Grant quickly winks back.  “Hi!” Thomas exclaims, picking up the cue.  “Great to meet you.”  They break the hug.  “I’m Thomas, this is Rose.”

Skye smiles at Rosie.  “Do you want a hug?” Skye politely asks.

Even when pretending to be someone else, this girl has more tact with Rosie than most of his family.  Rosie beams and nods.

“Yay!” Skye exclaims, wrapping Rosie into a much more gentle hug.  Rosie happily hugs Skye back.

“Grant,” Mother says, and Grant honestly has no idea when she decided to materialize at his side.  “Who is that?”

“My girlfriend, Mother,” Grant says.  “Skye.”

“Your girlfriend?” Mother asks.  Her tone almost betrays an emotion.  Disappointment, he thinks.

“We’re very much in love,” Grant says.  “Isn’t that right, Skye?”

Skye turns away from Thomas and Rosie.  “Isn’t what right?”

“Just telling Mother how much I love you,” he says.

She grins.  “Oh, Grant,” she coos, all faux romance.  She reaches for him, grabs him by the tie.  “You’re so romantic.”

She kisses him.  And he’s knows they’re supposed to be acting, but the noise he makes is entirely too genuine.

It’s his fault for being an idiot, of course, but she’s a really good kisser.

  
  


“Grant,” says a voice over his shoulder, which he takes as his cue to stop making out with Skye.

He hadn’t meant for it to turn into making out, but she’d started it and he couldn’t say no, obviously, and Mother looked like she might actually drop dead at any moment.  So he’d say that was a good call.

“Christian!” Grant exclaims.  He knows from the pink smudges all over Skye’s mouth that he must have lipstick on his face.  He couldn’t be happier.  “Have you met my girlfriend?”

Skye wipes her mouth on the back of her hand before offering it to Christian.  He stares at it with a sneer, but decency dictates that he has to take it.  “Charmed.”

Skye pulls away before he can say anything else.  She goes to turn, and wobbles on her heel.  She grabs at the sleeve of Christian’s jacket, almost rips it off, but manages to steady herself.  “Fuck!” she yells, mostly at her shoes.  “Stupid fucking things.”  She apologetically looks at Christian, then the rest of the Wards.  “Plastic heels, you know?”

“We don’t,” Mother says.

“Grant,” Christian repeats, pulling his kerchief from his pocket. “You should wipe your face.”

“Ah,” Grant says, dabbing at his face.  He then passes the linen to Skye, who smears it across her lips.

“Thanks,” Skye says, holding it back out.  It’s now stained bright pink.  “Want it back?”

“You can keep it,” Christian says.

Skye shrugs, and drops it onto the tray of a nearby server.  No one says a word, though Grant is positive Thomas is snickering.

  
  


“So what’s good to drink?” Skye says.

“Yes, Mother,” Grant asks.  “What do we have to drink?”

Mother is going to kill him, when she gets the chance.  Good.  Grant hasn’t had this much fun at home…ever, actually.  “We have red wine, white wine, sparkling cider-”

“Do you have tequila?” Skye asks.  “I loooove tequila.”

Mother could not look more displeased if the house was on fire.  “We do not have tequila.”

“Red it is then,” Skye says.  “Oh! Wait!  Grant, didn’t I bring a gift for my future in-laws?”

Grant blinks down at her.  “You didn’t.”

Skye makes a faux-embarrassed face.  “I was going to bring that really good wine from Trader Joes,” she says.  “Everyone calls it two-buck Chuck.  Have you heard of it?”

“I have!” Thomas says, raising his hand.  “Love it.”

“I love it, too!” Rose declares.  Which is silly, because Rosie can’t drink, but Grant certainly appreciates their encouragement.

“I’ll bring it next time,” Skye says.  “Christmas, maybe?”

“Christmas?” Mother says, raising an eyebrow.  “You don’t have your own family gathering to take Grant to?”

“Oh, my parents are super dead,” Skye says, grinning.  “I usually spend holidays alone, actually.”

“I see,” Mother says.

“Anyway,” Skye says, waving it off.  “I’ll have red, I guess.  Grant?”

“Red’s fine,” Grant says.  “Actually, let me go get it.  You stay and socialize, Skye.”

He gets three sets of ‘are you serious?’ stares.  He just grins.  “Be right back!” he says.

  
  


The kitchen staff barely acknowledges him as he comes in.  He weaves through them, making his way to the fridge.  Grape juice should do.  He pulls it out, grabs two goblets.  Half a glass of grape juice, a little water.  He decides to add cranberry as well, for color.  He picks the glasses up off the countertop.

He doesn’t have to tell anyone to keep this secret.  They aren’t paying attention.  And even if they were, everyone knows what happens in the kitchen never leaves the kitchen.

Grant saunters back into the living room just in time to hear Skye say “-and anyway, after the cop tazed me, I almost wet myself.  But thankfully, I was too high, and my bodily fluids had all dried up.”

Father and Mother are varying degrees of flushed, and Christian looks like he might throw up.

“That sounds…dangerous,” Father finally says.

Grant steps up behind Skye, hands her a goblet.  She nods.  “Well, you know, cops are pretty receptive to sexual favors, so I did manage to get off.”  She takes a sip, and a knowing smile curls onto her face.  “So did the cop, actually.”

Christian chokes on his drink.

Skye has the audacity to wink at Christian, before throwing her head back and chugging the entirety of her goblet.  “Tastes like grapes,” she declares.

“I’ve always thought so,” Thomas says.

“Thomas,” Mother says, sharply.

“Mother,” Thomas says, mocking her tone.  “How did you guys meet, anyway?” Thomas asks.

“Oh,” Skye says, grabbing Grant’s ass.  “You guys are going to love this.”

Grant has no idea what she’s going to come up with.

  
  


“I give a lot of lapdances, right?” Skye says.  “And most men are pretty handsy, despite the rules.”  She snuggles against Grant’s bicep.  “But not Grant.  He’s a real gentleman.”

Christian gives Skye’s dress another once over.  “You’re a-”

“Dancer, yeah,” Skye says.  “Pays the bills.”

“Oh,” Christian replies.

“Anyway, I was giving Grant a lapdance, right?” Skye says.  “And I could just tell from sitting on his lap that he was packing.”  She winks at Mother.  “And he kept telling me how pretty I was, and I just knew he meant it, you know?  At first, it was just sex,” Skye says.  “Now, I’m not a prostitute.  I had sex with him because I wanted to, not for the money.  And we had so much sex.  Where did we first do it, Grant?”

“In the strip club,” Grant declares.  Christian raises his eyebrows.

“No, sweetie,” Skye says.  “No.  We did it in your car.  In the parking lot one building over from the strip club.”

“I must’ve dreamt it, then,” Grant says.

“Probably, my silly-billy,” Skye says, reaching up to flick his nose. 

“Aw, angelcakes,” Grant says.  He has no idea where that came from.  He blames Skye entirely.

She laughs, and reaches for his wine.  “I’m thirsty again,” she says, and grabs at the top of the goblet, only for it to slip out of her hands and smash onto the carpet.  Grape juice seeps into the fibers of Mother’s Manolos.

“Mazel-tov,” Thomas jokes, raising his glass.

“Oh no!” Skye says.  “I am so clumsy.  I’m sorry-” she bends over at the waist to pick up pieces of glass, which makes her dress hike up her ass.  Grant doesn’t stare.

Father does, though.  Grant feels like maybe he should throw his jacket over his date.

“The maid will get it,” Mother snaps, her tone finally showing something other than loathing apathy.  “Grant, take your date to the bathroom and clean up.  We’re eating, soon.”

“Right,” Grant says, placing his hand on the small of Skye’s back.  “Come on, Skye.”

She stands back up, adjusts her skirt.  “See you all in a sec!” she says, letting Grant lead her out of the room.  “Sorry about the carpet!”

  
  


They burst into a laughing fit when they get to the bathroom.

“Oh my God,” Skye says.  “This is the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had.”

Grant smiles at her.  “How much of that stuff was true?” he asks.

“Hm?” she says.  “Oh, uh.  Well, I am an orphan.  But I always have been.” She’s sadder about it now, and Grant feels guilty for finding it funny, earlier.  Even if he was supposed to.  “I’m not a stripper.  I worked in a club when I was younger, but just waiting tables.” She tugs at the ends of her hair.  “I know everyone says that, but I was too young to dance, anyway.”

He suddenly feels the urge to hold her, this girl he barely knows.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “About your parents and the clubs and-”

She shakes her head.  “I’m sorry.  You hired me to make your parents upset.  Not to hear my life story.”

“If you want to talk, we can talk,” Grant says.  He reaches out, touches her arm.  “I really like you, Skye.”

She turns to look at him.  “Are you falling for me?” she asks.

“I- uh,” he says.  “You’re a really great girl.”

She leans forward and kisses him again.  It’s softer when she’s not pretending.  But it’s still nothing like anything he’s ever felt before.  It takes the breath out of his lungs.  

“You’re a real softie, aren’t you?” she asks, holding his jaw in her slender hands.  Her voice is gravel and it sends a chill down his spine.  “You’re a sweetheart.  The nicest boy I’ve ever met, probably.”

“Thank you,” he says, still too awed to come up with a proper response.

She kisses him again.  “Want to have sex?” she asks.

He probably dies right then and there.  Still, he somehow manages to croak out, “What?”

“Do you. Want to.  Have sex?” Skye repeats.

“You want to have sex with me?” Grant asks.

“Well,” Skye says.  Another kiss on his jaw, moving down towards his neck.  “You’re really hot.  And really sweet.  And maybe-”

“Skye,” he says.  He puts his hands on her shoulders.  “Are you trying to prove something to me?”

She tilts her head.  “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know,” he says.  “Didn’t your ad say this would be platonic?”

“Yeah,” Skye says.  “And I meant it, until my taker turned out to be a six-foot-”

“I’m six-two,” Grant says, before he can stop himself.

Skye snickers.  “Six-two Adonis with the personality of a puppy.”

“You think I’m a puppy?” he asks.

“I think you’re sweet,” Skye says.  “And I want to help you piss off your parents.”

He swallows.  “We will have sex,” he says.  “But not here.”

“Are you asking me out?” she says.

He nods.  “I know it wasn’t part of the deal but-”

  
  


She nips at his neck and he lets out a small gasp.  Whatever he was going to say is quickly forgotten. “What if I want to do something to you now?” she asks.  “What if I’m just as into you as you are into me?”

“Have I been that obvious?” Grant asks. 

“Oh, completely,” Skye says.  “Now-” she reaches for the erection that’s been growing in his pants.  “Let me take care of this.”

Grant’s not really sure what the proper response is.  It might not be putting his own hand on her thigh, but he hopes it is. “You’re doing me a huge favor.  Let me take care of you, too.”

Something crosses her face for a fraction of a second, and it’s almost sad and it’s almost lonely.  Grant gets the urge to kiss her again, but then she’s back to her cheshire grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  She presses forward, unzipping his pants.

“My parents are downstairs,” he says.  He’s not really sure why.

She snickers, and pulls down his zipper.  “What are you, fifteen?”

“God, no,” Grant says.  She reaches her hand into his boxer-briefs and he groans.  “Oh, fuck.”

“Holy shit,” Skye says.  “You’re packing.”

He blinks down at her.  “Thank you?”

She responds by kissing him.  He almost falls backwards onto the towel rack, but manages to steady himself against the wall.  She twists and he eagerly thrusts into her hand.

He’s known her for three hours.  He also wants to go down on her for three hours.  This is not how he pictured this evening going.

She drops to her knees with a graceful ease, and he frowns.  “Don’t do that,” Grant says.

Skye looks up.  “Are you turning down a blowjob?” she says.

“For now, yeah,” Grant says.  “That floor is super uncomfortable.”

She snickers.  “I’m fine,” she says.

“Skye,” he replies.  “Just sit on the sink counter, okay?”

She pauses.  “Why?”

“I really need to eat you out,” Grant admits.  “Like, really badly.”

“Oh, good,” Skye says.  “Because let me tell you.”  She stands, and lets Grant put her on the counter.  “I am really, really wet.”

  
  


He makes a noise of approval and drops to his knees.

“I thought you said the floor was uncomfortable?” Skye asks.

“Yeah, but I’m used to it,” Grant says.  “And like I said.  I need to do this.”

Skye spreads her legs, and Grant quickly pulls her underwear down her legs.

“If I make a comment about filling up before dinner, would that be in poor taste?” Skye asks, resting her legs on his shoulders.

Grant might be in love with her.  This might be the real deal.  He surges forward, presses his lips to her and listens to her moan.

He hasn’t eaten out a girl in forever.  And it’s never been this good.  She’s divine.

“You sure you don’t want to have sex?” she asks.

He’s not, actually.  He stands, and his fly is still unzipped.  He’s so hard.

“Come on,” she says.  “It’ll piss your parents off.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my parents,” he says, pulling his pants down.  “I care about you.”

She smirks, and wraps her legs around his hips.  “Prove it.”

  
  


He tries to be gentle about it, putting his hands softly on his hips, slowly sliding into her.

“Oh, God,” she says.  “I am so glad you’re packing.”  And then she reaches up and grabs his hair.  His lips find her collarbone.  “Bite me,” she says.  “Leave marks.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“I want it to hurt a little,” she says, thrusting her hips up.  “Makes it fun.”  She pulls him closer with her legs, until there’s no space between them and she’s practically riding him.

He shuts his eyes and groans against her.  As she requested, he starts to suck hickeys into her skin. 

She moans.  Her head lolls back, exposing more of her neck.  He takes a tentative nip.  She shudders around him.

He has to dig into her hips to keep his balance.  “Holy shit,” he murmurs.

“You like that?” she asks. “I can do more.”

“Mm,” he replies, driving into her.  “Don’t worry.” He says.  “Just let me make you feel good.”

“Keep doing that,” Skye says.  “Keep going.”

She likes it rough, and Grant doesn’t really do rough, but he’s trying to make an exception.  He presses harder into her skin with his fingers.  He’s practically on top of the counter with her.

She snarls and bites at his jaw.  She moans.  She writhes and bucks back.  “Fuck me,” she whines.  She moves her hands from his scalp to his neck.

They hold each other too tightly.  He moves his hands to her waist, and when he sucks on her neck, he means it.

“Make me come,” she says.  She’s clawing at his jacket.  There will be pulls in the fabric.  “Make me come,” she repeats.

He drops one hand between her legs, presses his finger against her clit.  He rubs circles into her, breathes slowly, softly.  She quivers beneath him but her grip never softens.

“Oh, God,” she moans.

She shifts under him, spasms, and he feels his breath hitch.  “Holy shit,” he replies.  She tugs on his lower lip with her teeth.

“Mn,” she says.  “I’m close.”

He presses harder, thrusts faster.  

She cries out and clenches around him, and he wants to keep going, he does, but he doesn’t have the time.

And she feels so good.

He comes inside the girl he hired from Craigslist.  Skye.  A stranger who is not really a stranger at all.  Not anymore.

  
  


He’s resting his head in the crook of her neck, panting, licking away her sweat.  Someone’s knocking on the bathroom door.

“Grant?” Thomas asks.  “I think Mother is literally about to have an aneurysm.”

Skye giggles at that.

“Good,” Grant says.

“That’s what I said!” Thomas replies.  “But seriously, food’s on the table.  If you guys are done.”

“We just need to clean up,” Skye says, and Grant makes a face.  “What?” she asks.  “Your mother will actually murder me if I get semen on the furniture.”

“That’s true!” Thomas says.

Grant shakes his head.  “Tommy-”

“Yeah, okay,” Thomas says.  “I’ll tell them you’re coming.”

“Phrasing,” Skye and Grant say at the same time, before looking at each other and grinning.

“Gross, guys,” Thomas says.  He’s teasing.  “See you downstairs.”

“Be right there,” Grant says.  He turns back to Skye, quickly kisses her forehead.  “I promise I’ll last longer next time.”

She grins.  “We had a time crunch,” she says, turning on the tap.  “Hand me a towel.”

“Oh God,” Grant says.  “We’re going to ruin Mother’s towels?”

“Yep,” Skye says.

Grant doesn’t even hesitate.  He pulls the embroidered towel off the rack, hands it to Skye.  “You know,” he says, as she wipes off her sweat.  “That is a really easy dress to have sex in.”

Skye snickers.  “Duh, Grant,” she says.

“Do you normally wear dresses like that?” he asks.

“Nope,” Skye says. “I’m a jeans and flannels type of girl.”

“Maybe you can wear flannel for Christmas,” Grant says.

“We could wear matching flannels,” Skye says.  “And fake matching tattoos.”

“That is evil,” Grant says.  “I’m putting your name right on my bicep.”

She laughs, and hands him the towel.  He wipes himself off, pulls his pants back up.  She puts her underwear back on, adjusts her dress.  “I really was not expecting to make an actual connection out of this,” she says.

“Are you glad you did, though?” he asks.

“Nah,” she says.  “I’m totally pissed off that this is how the day’s been going.”

He kisses her again.  “I’m sorry, then,” he teases.

“You should be,” Skye says, hopping off the counter.  “Come on.  I’m starving.”

  
  


They arrive in the dining room just as one of the servants sets the turkey down on the table.  Skye beams at everyone.

“Grant,” Mother says, tone laced with ice.  “Did you get lost on your way to the bathroom?”

Grant sits down next to Thomas.  “Something like that.”

“This place is freaking enormous,” Skye says.  “And so much fancy art on the walls!”

“This family has long been a patron of the arts,” Christian says.

“I knew a guy that was an artist.” Skye says.  “He got put away for vandalism and theft but hey, that’s creativity, right?”

Christian goes back to drinking.

Father clears his throat.  “Shall I start grace?” he asks.

Mother stiffly takes his hand.  “Please,” she says.

Skye joins hands with Grant and Rosie.  “You’ll have to excuse me,” Skye announces, as the family bows their heads.  “I always slept through mass.”

“We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing,” Father begins.  Grant easily tunes it out, as he always does.  He turns his head slightly to look at Skye.

She catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and sticks out her tongue.  He notes, to himself, that Skye is gently rubbing Rosie’s knuckles with her thumb, reassuring his sister and keeping her happy.  Something in him feels warmer than it has in years.  Maybe this is what Thanksgiving is supposed to feel like.

“O Lord, make us free,” Father says, which Grant recognizes as the end of the prayer.

“Amen,” Grant says, with the rest of his family.

  
  


“Amen!” Skye declares, raising her glass. “That was one old-school prayer,” she says.

“The Wards have been in America for centuries,” Mother says.  Always looking for an opportunity to boast.  “We came over on the Mayflower.”

“And killed the natives, yeah?” Skye says.  “Funny how white people are always so weirdly proud of that.”

Mother draws her lips into a line.

“Cheers,” Skye says, smugly. 

Grant squeezes her thigh under the table as Skye reaches for the stuffing.

“Who makes this stuff?” Skye asks, serving Rose first, then herself, then Grant.

“The kitchen staff,” Christian says.

“You don’t give them the day off?” Skye says.

“I don’t think Mother would live without them,” Thomas says.  “You’re not much of a cook, are you, mother?”

Mother gives a disdainful little sniff.  “I can cook fine.”

Father almost laughs at that, which earns him a glare.

“Next year I’ll cook for everyone,” Skye says.  “Have you guys ever had deep-fried turkey?  I know this guy with a deep fryer, and he lets me borrow it on holidays, sometimes.”

“I think we’ll stick to tradition,” Mother says.

“Well I’m in for deep-fried turkey,” Thomas says.  “And I know Grant is.”

“Oh, totally,” Grant affirms.  He looks to his sister, happily sitting next to Skye.  “What about you, Rosie?  Would you like to spend Thanksgiving with Skye next year?”

Rosie responds by enthusiastically giving Skye a hug.

“Aw, Rose,” Skye says, smoothing Rosie’s blond curls.  “You’re so good to me.”

Rose laughs before she goes back to eating.

“I guess we’re deep frying a bird next year,” Christian says.  “Should I wear a trucker cap?  Maybe a pair of jeans?”

“Don’t be gauche, Christian,” Mother says.

“I think you’d look good a little dirtied up,” Skye says.  “You’ve got a face that needs a little mud on it.”

Christian frowns.  “I think my face is fine, thank you,” he says.

Skye shrugs.  “Hey,” she asks.  “Where’s your wife?  Grant told me you were married.”

“Anna went to her own Thanksgiving this year,” Christian says.

“Ah,” Skye says.  “You’re separated.”

“We are fine, thank you,” Christian says.

“You and Anna separated?” Father asks.  “Christian, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, Father,” Christian says, stabbing at his plate.

“I think you’re a real catch, if it helps,” Skye says.  “If I wasn’t here with your brother, I would be all over you.”

“Thank you,” Christian mumbles.  “You’re too kind.”

Skye grins.  She extends her leg under the table, presses her foot to Christian’s shin.  Grant pretends not to notice the way his brother coughs as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes.

  
  


Skye is, for lack of a better term, a big eater.  She out-eats Grant, which is impressive.  She takes seconds, then thirds, without shame or fear of seeming over-indulgent.

“This is so good,” Skye says, with her mouth full.  “Oh my God.  This is amazing.”

Mother is on her third glass of red.  And that’s just counting the drinks she’s had since dinner started.  “Thank you,” she replies, as curtly as she can.

“I’ve never had a meal this good,” Skye says.

Grant doesn’t think she’s joking about that.  He rubs her knee.  “I’m glad you’re happy,” he says.

“Mm,” Skye replies, gulping down a glass of water.  “I’d like to make a toast, actually,” she says.  She stands from her seat, her skirt still bunched at her legs.  For a moment, it looks like she’s wearing a shirt and a pair of underwear.  She makes no motion to pull her dress down, so Grant does it for her.

Skye grins at him, then raises her glass.  “When I was in juvie,” Skye begins, and Mother quickly finishes her third glass and signals for a fourth.  “I never thought I’d really get to have a fancy holiday, you know?”  She quivers her lip.  “And you guys have let me into your home and your hearts.  I never thought I’d meet someone like Grant, but these two weeks we’ve-”

“Wait,” Christian says.  “Two weeks?”

“True love doesn’t have a time stamp,” Skye says, bringing a hand to her heart.  “I know Grant and I are going to be together forever.”

“I love you,” Grant adds.

“Aw,” Thomas says.  “That’s so romantic!”

Mother finally places her fork down in what Grant takes as a sign of defeat.  He takes Skye’s hand and beams.  “I think it’s time for dessert,” Mother says.  “And then we can all call it a night.”

“Oh my God, is there pie?” Skye asks, still standing.  Grant gives her arm a light tug, and she easily falls back into her seat.  “I fucking love pie.”

Mother sighs for what seems like eons.

  
  


There’s pumpkin and pecan, and Skye takes what is possibly the largest slice of pumpkin pie possible.  She then sets it down in front of Rosie, who beams like it’s Christmas morning.

Skye kisses Rose’s hair, the turns to Grant.  “She told me Pumpkin was her favorite,” Skye says.

“I’m glad you two get along so well,” Grant says.  Skye eyes his pecan pie, and Grant decides to feed her a forkful.  She coos loudly in appreciation.

“Grant,” Mother sighs.

“Mother?” Grant asks.

“Will you be coming for Christmas?” she asks, like it pains her.  It probably does.

“Oh, definitely,” Grant says. He pulls Skye close, kisses her temple.  She responds by putting pumpkin pie on his nose.  He laughs.  “We wouldn’t miss it.”

  
  


“Just try not to get her pregnant,” Christian mumbles, finally breaking his composure.

“Christian!” Mother and Father say in tandem.

“Am I wrong?” he asks.

“I’m on the pill, big bro,” Skye says, rubbing her abdomen.  “You don’t have to worry.”

“Though you just gave up your rights as Godfather if we ever do have a child,” Grant says.

Christian, who has finally given up, responds by flicking a piece of his pie at Grant.

“Christian!” Mother says, again.

“Oh you did not just do that,” Grant says, throwing a piece of pie back.

“You miserable little-” Christian starts, reaching for his drink.  “Oh you know what?  Fuck it.  Skye’s right.”  He loosens his tie.  “I am way too drunk to keep up pretenses.”

Skye cheers as Christian slips off his suit jacket.  Grant looks to Thomas, who seems just as surprised as Mother and Father are.  Though not as unpleasantly so.

“You’re a real brat, you know that?” Christian asks Skye.  “Anna would love you.”

Skye shrugs.  “You’re an asshole,” she tells him.  “Which is probably why she left.”

Christian smirks at her as Grant and Thomas make the appropriate ‘ooh’-ing sounds.  “You little bitch.”

“Love you too, big bro,” she says.  She blows a kiss.

And that would be all worth it, but the way Rosie starts laughing just completes the night.  “C’mere, Rosie,” Christian says, getting up from his seat.  He comes over to his sister, wraps her into a hug.

“Christian’s drunk,” Rose says.  “I like drunk Christian.”

“I think we all do, Rose,” Grant says.  “You haven’t been this fun in years, Christian.”

“I blame your horrible girlfriend,” Christian says.

“You’re welcome,” Skye says.

Rosie pulls Skye into the hug, and then Grant follows, and then Thomas comes up and joins them.

“Don’t pressure mother into hugging,” Thomas says.  “It might kill her.”

“I’m surprised Christian isn’t dead, actually,” Grant notes.

“Shut up, Grant,” Christian says.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Skye says.  “I’m so glad my parents are dead.  Families are so weird.”

Grant is the first one to laugh.  Then Rosie, then Thomas, then Christian, though not very loudly.

Mother rises from the table.  “I’m going to bed,” she says.  “Grant, are you spending the night?”

“Sleepover?” Skye asks the Ward siblings.

Rosie claps in approval.

“I guess that settles it,” Grant says.  “Sleepover it is.”

“Just what I need,” Christian says.  “The four of you bothering me all night.”

“Oh come on, Christian,” Thomas says.  “It’ll be like old times.  Remember when we used to play Star Wars?”

Christian frowns.  “You always made me be the Sith.”

“Yeah,” Thomas says, fondly.  “We did.”

  
  


“I’m gonna go change, then,” Skye says.  “This dress is a fucking nightmare.”

Christian stares at her.

“Oh,” Skye explains.  “I’ve been faking all night to piss you guys off.”

Christian looks to Skye, then to Grant.  “You son of a bitch,” he says, but he’s the happiest Grant’s heard him in years.  “That’s fucking brilliant.”

“Where did you guys actually meet?” Thomas asks.

Skye shrugs.  “I put a joke add on Craigslist.”

“And you’re not a serial killer?” Christian says.

“I mean, there’s still time,” Skye says.

“Start with Mother,” Christian tells her.  “The sooner she’s in the ground, the sooner we get our inheritances.”

“Here, here!” Thomas says, raising a water glass.  “To family,” he says.

Grant takes a glass as well.  “To Skye,” Grant says.

Christian and Rose follow suit.  “To Skye,” the siblings say.

If Grant didn’t know better, he’d say Skye’s embarrassed.  “You guys are weird,” she says.  “But I like you.”

“Aw,” Grant says.

“Oh, please,” Skye says.  “You’re the one who hired me.”  With a grin, she pulls Grant into a kiss.


End file.
